Frayed Strings Of Fate
by Fyrshi
Summary: Shizuo's life had turned upside down ever since Izaya had forcefully invaded it, and he has been conflicted by the enigmatic informant for nearly a decade of public and private clashes... until he discovers the one way that will effective remove the male from his life, once and for all. [Rated M for Character Death; Established (?) Relationship; AU; Songfic]


_**A/N: **This oneshot had been in the making for... two months?... but it's finally made its way into the light of the fanfiction world after spending quite a while gathering dust in my mind and my documents section. I apologize for not updating my other stories, but I will get around to updating them soon. I may also consider getting a Beta to check out this story in the near future... but for now, I guess you'd be more interested in reading what I have to write, rather than reading my waffle, so I'll just stop rambling now~_

**WARNING:** **This story contains profanities, violence, character death and references to male on male sex. Please do read this story if you cannot handle any of these things…**  
_**Disclaimer: **_**_I do not own any facet of Durarara (written by Ryohgo Narita) or Mozaik Role (composed by DECO*27 and transliterated by animeyay); the only thing I own is the story itself…_**

**Note: **_**'bold italics'**_indicate song lyrics (from Gumi's _Mozaik Role_), **'bold'** indicates song lyricsspoken by the characters, '_italics' _indicate reflections and thoughts, and 'normal text' indicates the present storyline.

* * *

**Frayed Strings Of Fate**

* * *

_**Certain words pierced through you**_

He had that dream again, but perhaps it meant something to have it again. Perhaps it was telling him that now was the time to let go, to cut all ties with what he once was and build that new life he'd been seeking ever since he knew he wasn't normal… but perhaps it meant something else altogether. Who was he to question the thoughts that ran unbidden inside his head, anyway?

What was he to do, other than sit back and try to make sense of the chaos around him?

* * *

_**The fluid flowing from your wounds…**_

_He first met him when he was sinking to the bottom again; after all his efforts, nothing had come out of it. Nothing at all._

_Middle school had been relatively peaceful, compared to the other years of his life. Instead of the stupid fights that everyone felt compelled to force him into, he had been able to force the majority of the school population to acknowledge his intentions to try and lead a peaceful life. Everyone had learnt to avoid his crazy shock of dyed blonde hair, recognizing it as a signpost that heralded his undeniable presence, and for that he had been indebted to his helpful senpai, Tom Tanaka. It had been due to the elder brunette's ceaseless intervention and his constant help that had brought back the semblance of peace that had so often eluded his life._

_He had finally began to enjoy the little pleasures in life and had even succeeded in making a number of friends without managing to hurt any of them… when high school happened. Clearly, his infamous reputation was not enough to ward pests away from his sights, and without his senpai's continued guidance and support, it hadn't taken long for him to unravel at the seams. At first, it had been little cracks in inanimate objects and muttered profanities huffed under his breath, but soon enough, broken tables and chairs littered the corridors, and the occasional crater would appear in secluded sections of Raijin Academy. He had begun to spiral out of control, and there was nothing to stop him._

_Or so he thought._

_The exact location had been strange, to say the least. If most people had been asked about where they had met important people in their lives, they would say something along the lines of 'Oh, yes, I remember seeing him in class, with that wonderful smile upon his face' or 'Ugh, him? Yeah, I saw him skulking around the bathrooms, like a paedophile or something' but that was not how he had met him. Funnily enough, he had been tossing various gangsters and the occasional inanimate object in the middle of a soccer field when he had first heard that quick and almost mocking clapping that had assaulted his ears. It had infuriated him and puzzled him, all at the same time._

_On second thoughts, he probably should've never turned around –perhaps, if he had simply walked away, he might have never lost himself in the twisted destiny that he would live from thereon in– and yet that had been what he'd done. Against his will and against the instincts that screamed at him to run, he turned to face those carmine eyes, glimmering with far too much amusement for someone who had just witnessed his impossible feats of angered strength. He had barely any time to take in the other's general features before a singularly strong emotion struck his heart._

_Nothing that the other male had said, nor the introduction that his eccentric friend gave of the unknown boy, entered his head at that exact moment. All that he could focus on was his emotions, the roiling sea of turmoil churning inside him and nauseating him with its intensity. All he could do was stare into the other's maliciously gleaming eyes, trace his carmine pupils with his fervent gaze, and attempt to suppress the disgusting feeling welling up inside of him. All he could really say was the opposite of what he truly wanted to say, because he could not allow himself to become carried away with the retarded figment of his imagination that had taken a hold of him._

_All he could do was choke down his heart and his mind as he hissed out those four little words that were to change his life forever._

"_You piss me off…"_

…_**are what I describe as 'love'**_

* * *

_The two bodies looked to merge into one as they twined lazily together, one limb starting and another limb ending in a confusing trail of uncovered skin and rumpled sheets. It would've intrigued the general population of Ikebukuro if they had seen the two men lying peacefully on the bed, but for all Heiwajima Shizuo cared, the whole world could know about his relationship with the 'flea', otherwise known as Orihara Izaya, and he wouldn't have batted an eyelash at the shocked reactions everyone would be sure to have. To be honest, though, the fake blonde wasn't all that sure of what his relationship with his enemy was –because, no matter what the black-haired man beside him said, he was still his enemy– but it certainly wasn't something that he could live with for much longer._

_To call them 'lovers' was too sugary for his liking, and though he might've once labelled his feelings for the other as affection, he was never sure if that was what the informant thought of him. 'Friends with benefits' was completely off as well, because they weren't really close enough to be considered as such and would probably never be anything that revoltingly intimate, for that matter. The only term that would come close to describing their relationship was probably 'fuck buddies', but the label simply made him cringe internally, because it just sounded so crude and entirely too wrong._

_Which, now that he thought about it, was just like what he was like now.  
It was what he had become after all these wasted years…_

* * *

_**Lack of sympathy and emotionless sex**_

The seemingly-magical moment of waking up to one's beloved was soon broken by the rough kick he delivered to the all-too-peaceful form of the sleeping man. He found a smirk seeking to worm onto his face as a strangled yelp met his ears, and allowed it to blossom insidiously onto his face when the teary pain-filled eyes of his nemesis appeared in his line of sight. If this situation had happened a year or more ago, he might've offered an apology or have never bothered to kick the other off the bed to begin with… but that was then, and this was now. His past self had been a fool to think that anything had really changed, that he had finally managed to find what he had been searching for, but he was smarter now, and he was going to change his ways for the better, and-

"Shizu-chan, what was _that_ for?! First you fuck me into the mattress like there's no tomorrow and then go for god knows how many rounds, and now you kick me out of your bed? What's wrong with you, you stupid protozoan?"

If there was one thing that he'd learnt about the infuriating informant from their many encounters, it was that he was constantly in need of attention, drawing all thoughts to himself like the self-centred princess that he was, and it annoyed him to no end to hear his steady stream of complaints so early in the morning. The high-pitched whine that continued to assault his ears replaced his thoughts with a burgeoning headache, something that had become an unwanted constant that had recently come with the various meetings he had with his high-school enemy. He hated the other for making him feel this hate, for making him feel that violence was the only answer to shut the yammering louse perched awkwardly on his floor, but what was he to do? He had brought it upon himself and there was nobody he could turn to for help, so he was the only one that he could blame.

He snarled at him with a mixture of exasperation and fury laced into the roughness of his voice. "Goddammit, flea, I don't give a shit. Don't you remember the agreement we made that you'd get the fuck out of my apartment when we're done… done…"

"Fucking, Shizu-chan?"

"Tch, shut the fuck up, smartass. You know the rules, so why the hell do you hang around, huh?!" His shout was enough to leave the gilded tongue of the black-haired male scrambling for words, but Shizuo refused to linger in the bitter triumph it gave him to see the slight furrowing of the other's slender brows. Instead, he powered on, ignoring the way the paler man's mouth flew open in an attempt to defend his actions.

"_You _were the one that insisted on making the rules so that your smarmy ass wouldn't be overly abused, or whatever the fuck you said, and yet you're the one breaking the goddamn things! All we do is fuck, you or I leave, and then it's all over, right? So why are you going against what you said to begin with, huh?!"

The fleeting pain that flashed across the informant's carmine eyes was barely noticed by the fuming debt collector, but the shit-eating grin that he immediately plastered on afterwards was duly noted by the standing male's mocha-coloured orbs. As he watched the other rise from the floor gracefully –or as gracefully as he could, in the sore condition that he was in– and hobble towards his closet, he watched silently as the limping Shinjuku inhabitant picked up his clothing and slipped into them, before he eyed the other's retreating form. He really couldn't tell whether he wanted the male to stay, just so he could squeeze in a quick fuck before he went off to work, or allow the other to leave in relative peace, but through the turmoil he could sense a single concrete thought in his mind.

'_It was probably for the best that Izaya left his apartment…'  
'… And it would probably be even better if the man left his life forever, too.'_

_**It seems to perfectly describe the unsavoury ties between us**_

* * *

_**Saying things like…**_

_He hadn't always felt this way about his enemy; the pure hatred that he directed towards the slippery black-haired male had once been a mixture of emotions, bitter and sweet all at once. There had once been a time when he would allow his eyes to linger over the feminine build of his fighting partner, admiring the subtle curves of the informant's slender body and mentally undressing the tantalizing figure in his mind, but it wasn't as clear-cut as other people would diagnose it as. Some had called it 'perversion', the way his thoughts were filled with doing things to his rival that he really shouldn't, and there were others who called it 'unhealthy obsession', with the unerring flea-radar that he had for him, but he himself could not say that it was either one or the other. If anything, he would simply smash the unfortunate individual that dared to raise the touchy issue at all, but he really couldn't pummel himself into oblivion like he could to other people._

_All he could do was console his own thoughts, dwelling on times gone by when his mind wasn't as confused as it was now. All he could really do was search, alone, to find the answer that constantly eluded him. He couldn't really say for sure that he knew what he was searching for, let alone hazard a guess at the answer that would finally give him the peace he so wished to obtain, but what else was there to do, when he was stuck with nothing but himself?_

_At least his evasive thoughts distracted him from what he feared to admit…_

…'_**I still love you'**_

* * *

_The beginning of the end had come about almost unexpectedly, like a thief in the night._

_**In the last days of our relationship…**_

_He had been cuddling with Izaya after a few too many bouts of sex, as they normally did in those long-lost days. When the soft tresses of his partner tickling his nose, he had reflexively snuggled into the black mop of hair to get closer to the other, but before he could settle back down again, the pale body in his arms mumbled something incoherent underneath his breath. Being the trusting guy that he was, he had simply taken the mumbling as his beloved's usual sleep-talking, when the mumbling became a little more coherent and he finally realized what the other was muttering._

"_Shizu-chan…"_

_The loving exhale of the fake blonde's breath was enough to settle the funny sense of unease that was starting to well up inside him, but it seemed as if he would be denied his rest for a little longer, when the informant continued along his broken tangent._

"_I…"_

_The curious arch of a golden-brown eyebrow and the faint hint of a bemused smile ghosting over the debt collector's face was enough to indicate his growing curiosity… which was fed in due time._

"_I don't want to…"_

_It was strange to hear Izaya talking so lucidly in his sleep, when the usual culprits were often breathy moans and contented sighs, and his left eyebrow joined the other hovering on his forehead._

"_Why can't you…"_

_He was almost scared to hear what the slumbering male had to say next, but he had to know._

"_Just…"_

_What did he have to say? What was it hovering over his pink tongue?!_

"_Die already…?"_

…_What did he just say?_

_He continued to stay frozen, limbs locking around the lithe figure softly inhaling and exhaling next to his chest, even as the black-haired male beside him sighed once and wriggled quietly in his arms. He was sure he had heard that wrong –that his sex-satiated and sleep-deprived mind had conjured that up as a means to torture his conscience for no particular reason– but a harsher, more rational, part of him dryly rejected the notion his panicking mind offered. There was simply no way that he would dream up such a horrible set of words, no way that he could possibly conceive the honest words that had tumbled out of the flea's mouth, yet what else could it be, other than the truth?_

_However, the words themselves had not sent him into a panic._

_No, it was the fact that he didn't seem at all surprised that had torn his mind asunder._

* * *

…_**I got tired of you**_

_When had his unnatural affection for his enemy morphed into that something more– the something more that had compelled him to kiss his rival in the deserted alley that he'd cornered him in? That had been the perfect opportunity to do away with the nuisance that had tormented him since high school and sent his mind into a perfect blank of confusion at every chance encounter they had, and yet… he simply couldn't do it. The emotions roiling inside him could not properly be defined as anything concrete, and it annoyed him to no end that he could not identify it. Even as he pressed his lips to the other's invitingly velvety ones, the emotions refused to resolve themselves._

_Why was it so hard to define what it was that sent his thoughts flying all over the place?  
Why was it so hard to gain the peace that he so desperately sought for?  
Why was it so hard…?_

…_**Not knowing if it was love or lust…**_

* * *

His bath had taken no time at all, especially when he had wiped off the remnants of the night's activities; once again, it seemed, his _loving_ partner had forgotten to wipe down his partner after their noisy coupling session had died down into deep sleep. A sigh left his lips –the first or third or millionth for the day, he'd never truly know– as he buttoned the last button on his smooth shirt and tied up the characteristic bowtie that completed his outfit, before he shuffled tiredly into the adjoining living room. An all-too-small black shirt winked cheekily from its casual position on his couch but he ignored it in favour of food, finding that his stomach's complaints were much more vocal than his overly weak conscience. As always, he ate in relative silence, chewing silently on his half-burnt toast and chugging down his precious milk, before he finally cleaned up after himself and bothered himself with the intruder on his sofa.

Despite having laid down clear rules about leaving personal objects in the house after their time together, he had always left things in Izaya's apartment… but this was probably the first time that he had seen the flea leave anything of his behind. He lifted the dark thing by one tiny sleeve and was on the verge of throwing it out when the smell of flea, of inherent allure and barely-concealed trickery, wafted its way into his sensitive nose. If this had been any other day, where his mind did not pain him and where his heart did not threaten to simply lie down and stop beating, he would've let loose an angry roar and threw it out the window, but such was not the case now. In fact, the more he stared at the accursed thing lying all too innocently in his hand, the more his urge to destroy faded, and the more his urge to bring it close and examine it further waxed.

It came as no surprise to his mind when he eventually sighed, wiped a suspicious accumulation of moisture in his eye, and proceeded to sit on the contaminated sofa, while still clutching the flea-stained shirt in his trembling hand. As he draped the black shirt on the coffee table before him and crossed his shaking arms over his chest, he levelled his darkening gaze at the shirt in front of him, and found more suspicious moisture seeping into his eyes from an unknown well springing to life inside him. If he had taken the time to look at his insides, he may have seen the salty liquid gushing from a prominent crack in his embittered heart, but his sight had been narrowed down until the only thing he could see –or, if he wanted to be more accurate, the only thing he _wanted_ to see– was the taunting article of clothing lying before him.

He was saved from the inner turmoil roiling inside of himself when a soft bout of knocking made itself known at his door. As he shook his head blearily to clear his thoughts and tore his gaze away from the misplaced shirt that mocked him with its very presence, he made his way to the door and hastily threw on his shoes, before he greeted the man at the door and left his apartment. After all, he didn't want to be late for work when his boss had personally come to see him.

Though, somewhere deep inside his mind, a snarky voice simply placed his eager willingness to go to work as an excuse to flee the solitary item of clothing that continued to lie abandoned in his home. He brushed away the thought like he used to brush away a certain red-eyed devil's blades, because it was convenient for him. It was convenient for him to push the thoughts until later, like he always did, and it was convenient to blindly go about his job, because that was what was required of him.

It was convenient for him, too, to pretend he knew nothing.  
To pretend that everything was not falling apart around him…

**I don't know what to call this ending relationship anymore**

* * *

**...But that's…**

_His suspicions towards his partner had been unfounded, he had tried to tell himself, but nothing he saw could convince him of the lies in his errant thoughts and wishful thinking anymore. For the first time in years, since that ill-fated moment when the anger in his eyes had faded into misguided love, he could see the problems and the flaws for what everyone else saw them for. He had cursed his blindness then, in the days and weeks that followed the beginning of his failing reason and his stubborn inability to listen to the good advice of his friends, but it had been unimaginably easy to continue in his flawed façade of blind devotion and unassuming adoration to his apparent 'lover'._

_Why was it so easy to put on such a front? He wished he knew the answer.  
He wished he knew the answer to many things, but there was only one answer he had.  
…And that was whether he would ever be able to recover from his pain and move on from it all…_

…**still fine…**

* * *

He should've expected his day to have upended itself, for fate to laugh mockingly in his face and pour an icy bucket over his dim expectations, yet the unpleasant smell wreaking havoc with his mind and the insidious smirk bare metres away from him did nothing to calm his rage anyway. Even as his employer shook his head wearily and called after him to get back to work before lunch rolled over, he was already off and hot on the heels of the tormentor he had chased for far too long, while roar after furious roar exploded from his angered mouth. Despite the signposts that he wrenched up with his hand and speared at the nuisance… despite all the vending machines that he tore from their pitiful brackets in the wall and hurled at the pest… he could do nothing to squash out the life of his eternal rival and former lover…

…And he hated his weakness and his foolish sentiments for getting in his way.

However, the more he ran after the annoying flea that continued to plague his life for years on end, the more he seemed to notice something a little off about the other's movements. There was something decidedly strange with the way there were no cheery insults being tossed his way or switchblades hurtling out of nowhere to strike maliciously at his skin, but the taunting grin, thrown back every now and again, was enough to fuel his cantankerous rage and spur him to run faster and harder. Their chase stretched from one minute into two, and from there into an hour –as it usually did these days– before their running abruptly terminated at a rather unusual junction.

Generally speaking, the fake blonde would careen into an oncoming truck or bash into an innocent brick wall while his nemesis pealed out a mocking strain of laughter and went back to wherever fleas usually resided. On most occasions, he would swear and shout so loudly that passerbys not used to his demonstrations of rage would hurry by and, at most, wonder silently about his sanity, while his self-satisfied enemy would, no doubt, be planning his next assault on his 'monstrous toy'. There were even a few times when his rival would linger so long that he would be able to extricate himself in time and start the chase all over again… but this time, the chase didn't end like how it normally would, with a caustically amused informant and a highly annoyed debt collector.

This time, instead of losing by spectacular means or simply giving up on the idiotic thing that had managed to make its way out of Ikebukuro without harm, the angered male was in a very unique position indeed. Not only had he managed to sustain no wounds whatsoever in their daily chase, he had also managed to inflict wounds on the enemy that had eluded him for so long.

In fact, if it wasn't for his fist curling rather tightly into the scratchy fur of the other's signature jacket, the former bartender would be sure that this was all just a really strange dream.

* * *

"S-Shizu-chan…" The lump on the floor coughed as it struggled to stand up, but he ignored it in favour of blowing cigarette smoke across the wafting air around him.

"S-Shizu…" It tried again, yet all the fake blonde did was scatter ashes into the streets far below and lean over the railing that separated him from a perilous drop into the city below.

"I-Is this all just a game to you, S-Shizu-chan?" The lump wheezed out as it resolved itself into a limp figure that panted pathetically on the rooftop, and he finally turned towards the weak mess that was his once-secret crush and his current 'fuck buddy' as he ground his cigarette into the railing.

"What, exactly, makes you think that I consider this all just a shitty game?" He asked in a deadly voice, and the scrunched-up figure before him gulped inaudibly before the other summoned up the energy –or was it some twisted courage of some sort? He'd never really know– to plaster his usual smirk straight back onto his face. "Don't fucking smirk at me when I ask you something, flea. Just _answer _the goddamn question before I smash your face in!"

"Why, isn't that romantic of you, Shizu~" The black-haired devil purred lowly as he finally struggled to his feet, and he couldn't help himself from glaring into the carmine depths of those pain-clouded eyes and wondering why he still bothered.

He didn't realize that he'd voiced his thoughts aloud until the pale man opposite him flinched rather noticeably and the plastic smirk slipped off his face. However, before he could see the expression underneath and decipher it for what it was, the cruel gaze and the deceptive smile was back in place, along with a great deal of confidence that they were both sure the informant did not currently have.

"**So I suppose we were in love…"**

The faint whisper that rasped over the smaller man's lips might have gone unnoticed were it not for the wind that carried the other's words to his disbelieving ears. Of course, there was a small part of him that already acknowledged the statement for the truth that it was and throbbed just a little at the finality of the harsh yet almost casual words, but the majority of his being snorted in derision. Who would admit to such a doomed love, except for a blind pansy or a fool? And _he_ thought that he was simply just 'a protozoan' all the time…

"**Since we were clinging on and struggling~"**

It had been him for all those years, him and his stupid heart and his retarded senses that had fought to hold onto the individual swaying slightly before him, and yet the other had the nerve to say that it had been the both of them that had been caught in the thick web that ensnared them. He would've been infuriated by the other's nonchalant statement had he not been furious already, but deep down, he wondered at the truth of the statement. Had the flea, the cold and callous thing that dared to believe he was above all other humanity, really struggled as hard as he had for the broken love he had wished upon the both of them?

It had always been _him_ who bore the brunt of the negative emotions garnered from their clashes.  
It had always been _him_ who was reprimanded for his actions, and who was left alone due to them.  
It had always been _him_ and _him alone_ that tried to salvage what they once had and what he now knew they could never have…

…Yet the impudent flea dared to think that, somehow, it had been a team effort all along?!

"…'We'?" He hissed menacingly, as he stalked towards the black-haired male before him. "Whatever made you think that _this_, our fucked-up schedule of fucking, was anything close to a mutual effort?"

The whimper that faintly emitted from the carmine-eyed informant before him did nothing to quell his infamous anger and, caught up in the whirlwinds of his rage, he crumpled the flea's V-neck in his hands and dragged the other into the air. Even as some vague portion of his mind acknowledged the pain –and, dare he say, guilt– lurking behind the clouded arrogance of Izaya's mask, the fake blonde largely ignored the sympathy that fought to replace his overwhelming ire, and continued to spit out accusations and profanities into the smaller male's face.

"Sure, you might have created our schedule and led me around by the nose, but does that ever mean that _you_ thought, even for one fucking second, about the poor monster you were screwing over? Had it ever crossed your smug little mind that you only got off with a few shitty bruises while your 'lover' came off with all the emotional baggage that you couldn't damn heft for yourself? Did _anything_ about 'us' cross your mind when you were taking, and taking, and taking, huh?! You never fucking gave, but you always took, yet you think you can say-"

He would've gone longer with his tirade and probably have ended up running out of energy and breath, but the sudden jolt that ran through his arm cut off his furious rant midway through. By the time he finally figured out the source of the odd spasm down his arm, he found his mind screaming at him to move, even as the weakly-struggling figure dangling from his hand followed his gaze and looked down into the far distance yawning behind him.

However, no matter how much his brain told him to move, he simply continued to stand resolutely near the edge.

While the wind whipped around their immobile forms and the distant cacophony of mid-morning traffic floated up from the maze of streets below, the debt collector felt his eyes soften behind his ever-present sunglasses as he gently inhaled the elusive scent of the informant before him. Despite the acrid tang that perfectly depicted the conniving individual for what he was, there was a faint hint of a few subtle fragrances and something purely Izaya that he revelled in and, even if his irritation threatened to consume his rational thought and his hatred attempted to harden his heart against the frail being in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a small measure of affection for the pathetic being lying on the railing in front of him. Through all the trauma he had suffered at the hands of the carmine-eyed man, and through everything negative that had constituted his time together with the flea, he could still feel something other than ire and irritation at the other…

"**Isn't it fine just to kill me?"**

The mumbled question caught him very much by surprise, especially since he would've probably missed it altogether if he hadn't been watching his former crush's lips from behind his tinted shades, but the words, along with their implications, took very little time to sink into his mind. For a single terrifying moment, he could envision himself simply succumbing to his rage and throwing the unresisting body of his high-school enemy over the railing and into certain death below, but he hastily shoved the thought to one side when nausea threatened to grip his body. Even as his mind reeled with the question and his sunglasses slipped enough to reveal his incredulous eyes to the weary individual before him, he picked up the final comment that sent him careening, nearly literally, over the edge.

"**Since I really dislike you…"**

It had taken years of fine tuning for him to draw back enough to bruise and even hospitalize (but never kill… never, ever, kill) when he managed to physically wound the source of all his hatred and love. It had taken a little more than half a decade to perfect his caustic sarcasm to a level where he would only be insulted for his lack of intelligence (but never run the risk of harming with verbal barbs) and have his invectives scoffed at, and nothing more. It had taken barely a day for him to realize that he loved someone that he should never love (and yet he had fallen deep, deeper than he had ever wished to fall in his life) and succumb to the love he felt.

But it had only taken a split second for him to forget everything he had taught himself over his life when he snarled, pushed his occupied hand forward… and simply let go of the person in his iron grip.

His reciprocating rage had been so harsh, so dark and so swift that he had nearly followed the male that gracefully arched into the air and away from the safety behind the rusty railing of the rooftop he had been on mere minutes ago. The strange sense of vertigo that had gripped his stomach had almost made him throw up in a way that the flea's oppressive odour could never do, but the flimsy divider had held and he gasped out a sigh of breathless relief when his feet touched the concrete once more. However, when he had finally recovered from his near-death experience and realized that his hand was curiously empty, his mocha-coloured eyes widened as his dilated pupils rapidly sought out the figure curving towards the raging traffic below.

He had once heard that a person never knew what he had until it was truly lost to them, and he wholeheartedly believed that theory as soon as his eyes managed to locate the falling figure below him. As air billowed harshly around the loose folds of the other's dark pants and fur-trimmed jacket, and as the short strands of soft dark hair whipped around his pale face, the oddly serene smile tucked into the fold of the smooth contours of his features and the strangely warm glimmer of his carmine eyes was the final thing he saw before his own orbs blurred over with a suspiciously salty liquid. Before he could watch those eyes dim and darken until no more light shone from its depths, and before he could witness the terrible ramifications of his single impulsive act, the man shoved his weight off the railing before him, turned abruptly around to show his back to the dented metal…

…And walked away from the panic that was sure to erupt below.

* * *

_He supposed that he should feel grief for his actions __─grief for ending his relationship, grief for ending a fairy-tale that he'd wished had come true somehow__─ but all his tears were gone, dried in the past years where the salty rivulets of sorrow were the only things he tasted from dusk to dawn. Perhaps he should feel self-loathing, too, for his weakness and the cowardly split-second where he wondered if letting go of his problems would do some good to him, but all of that had also faded in past years, in a far-gone time where he spent long hours berating himself for his monstrous nature. In fact, now that he thought about it, there were a myriad emotions that he should've felt, as he watched the resignation settle into his former lover's face… but it seemed that the only thing he could sense in his heart was pure relief._

_**Isn't it fine to say that we were in love?**_

_What was this relief that overflowed from his heart? It didn't seem right, to be so glad to loosen the chains of love and hate that had locked him to Izaya, yet he could feel nothing but gladness for the light-hearted freedom that he now had, as a result of his severance from the Shinjuku informant. There would be no more late nights, where he would fix his glazed eyes upon a crack in the ceiling and ponder over his life choices regarding the male, and the days where he would spend precious time chasing, yet never catching, the other would simply be dim and unpleasant memories from now onwards. He supposed that his life would be just a little emptier, without a primary target to launch his eternal rage upon, but at least he could move on now, and stop clinging to the loathsome routine that had gripped him for nearly a decade. He was, in a sense, finally free._

_**Bound, we can't be touched by each other**_

_It was strange, though, to think about days where the constant presence of a snide remark, teasing smirk or glimmering carmine eyes would be no more. His life would have to start anew, and rise from the ashes that it had pathetically lain in for all those years. The 'passing' (because death was just too strong a word for a man who constantly prattled on about eternal life) of the smaller male would be something that would haunt him years later, perhaps, when his conscience had extended to the life of everyone that he constituted as a human, even if he would always be nothing more than a 'flea' in his mind, but that would be for later, he supposed. After all, if he really wanted to think about the situation in a cold and callous manner, he could probably say that the other's passing was inevitable._

_**Isn't this what they call 'fate'?**_

_They had both had enemies that would've been fine with doing away with them, and they both had a predetermined life that had caused them to become the twisted puzzle pieces that they were. He had fit well with the other male, despite their being two pieces of differing puzzles, but it was time to look for a better fit in his life, where he could do something other than chase the back of something he could never retain. His heart had accepted something that his head had rejected for far too long, but finally, after all this time, the entirety of his body would be in perfect harmony. It was time to find that something which would complete him… in a new setting far away from here. It was time for him to discover his true life, one where he would not be tainted by worrisome shadows. It was time to cast off his shackles and search for a new beginning, a fresh start._

_**It's just a certain love fading away…**_

_Because there was nothing left for him here, and he refused to live in the dark for any longer…_

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Ah, well, I guess that was random. Anyhow, please do tell me if you hated or liked this oneshot of mine, and I hope that you'll leave a review or shoot me a PM to tell me of your opinion about this work. Thank you for reading this, I guess~_


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